


our dance floor is wherever it just needs to be

by majesdane



Category: South of Nowhere
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. <i>Spencer still felt uncomfortable about it. Like she was intruding, somehow.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	our dance floor is wherever it just needs to be

Spencer introduces herself nervously, shifting her duffle bag to her other arm and thrusting her hand out in a rather undignified manner. Ashley doesn't even bother to take it, dismissing her with a wave of her hand; the smoke from the lit cigarette tucked between her index and middle fingers drifts up towards the ceiling lazily. Spencer rushes on, lamely.

 _I'm sure your agent told you to expect me -- I talked to him on the phone yesterday -- sorry I'm here a bit early, it was the only flight I could book --_

Ashley perches on a stool at the kitchen counter, looking bored. _Whatever,_ she says flatly.

Spencer flushes, feeling self-conscious. _Ah, okay then,_ she says, after a moment, setting down her bag and pulling out her camcorder. She flips the screen open, hits the power button. There's nothing, then finally the picture comes into focus and a scowling Ashley is on the tiny screen. Spencer turns away, giving the loft a once-over with the camera, testing it to see if it looks too bright with so much light pouring in from the tall windows looking out onto the city.

She turns back to Ashley.

 _I won't be taping you all the time,_ she tells the brunette. _Just so you know._

 _Good._ Ashley slides off her seat and makes her way to the bedroom. _I've got enough shit to deal with already. The last thing I need is some fucking camera in my face all day._

;;

 _Who's all that interested in my life anyway?_ Ashley asks, later that week, sitting on the couch with her guitar, trying to write a new song. _I mean, is it really worth making a documentary about?_

Spencer, from behind the camera, simply shrugs.

;;

Ashley likes to stay up until six in the morning, sleep in until it's past noon, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner all in a span of six hours. Sometimes when Spencer arrives in the afternoon Ashley's still in bed, a robe draped loosely around her, the television turned on some channel that Spencer never even knew existed, let alone seen before. She always lets herself in; Ashley had given her a key, stating that she didn't like to be bothered with answering the door when someone knocked.

Sometimes, when Ashley's sprawled on the couch, headphones on, scribbling lyrics down along the margins of her sheet music, Spencer puts the camera on it's stand and sits by the window, watching her. It's amazing, really, how someone like Ashley Davies, the party girl rocker extraordinaire who was always in the tabloids, could look so -- Spencer struggles to find the right word -- _ordinary_.

One day Ashley says, _Would you like to hear the song I'm writing?_ And Spencer is surprised, because Ashley's known for being rather private about her work, and she's never heard any of Ashley's songs before, never even bothered to pick up a CD when she found out from her boss they'd been given permission to do the documentary and Spencer was to fly out to Los Angeles the following week. But she says yes anyway.

The melody is soft and slow; Spencer watches Ashley's fingers strum the guitar strings expertly. When Ashley starts to sing, Spencer is surprised at how sweet the sound is; Ashley's voice is slow and smooth and unexpected.

Spencer quietly sets down her camera, shutting it off.

;;

Sometimes Spencer doesn't see Ashley for days, because she's out promoting her newest album or meeting with people from her record label. Spencer likes to visit Ashley's apartment in her absence, likes to trace along the edge of Ashley's guitar with her fingertips. There's a dull ache in her at times like these; she's not quite sure why.

;;

On one Sunday Spencer comes in and finds Ashley lying in bed, watching the news, a half-empty martini glass in hand. Spencer drops her bag on floor at the doorway, kicks off her shoes and goes to sit on the edge of the bed on the opposite side from where Ashley is. Even though Ashley had said numerous times she didn't mind at all, the bed was big enough, Spencer's still a bit uncomfortable about it, sharing Ashley's bed with her. Like she's intruding somehow.

Halfway through some movie Spencer's never seen, Ashley drops off to sleep. Spencer remembers Ashley telling her the other day about some party she had to go to -- for her music label or something, Spencer can't quite remember, especially when she can't help but notice how small Ashley looks in her sleep. She looks, Spencer thinks, worn out.

;;

 _I think you're tired of me,_ Spencer says, as they sit at the kitchen counter in Ashley's loft and eat Chinese takeout. _I know I would be._

 _No,_ Ashley says slowly. Thoughtfully. _I'm growing rather fond of you._

;;

When Ashley kisses her, she tastes like peppermint gum, which surprises Spencer, since she's seen first hand just how much Ashley smokes. In Ashley's bed, the sheets smell like the ocean, and when Spencer presses her face down into her pillow and breathes in deeply, it reminds her of summer vacations in Maine, when she was younger. Ashley's fingers trail along her stomach, trace the underside of her breasts, and Spencer sighs and runs a hand through Ashley's hair.

She takes Ashley's hand in her own, cups Ashley's palm against her cheek, kisses her fingertips. Ashley sighs, smiles, leans in and kisses Spencer full on the mouth. Spencer's fingers dance along Ashley's back, moving in slow, wide circles. Through the huge windows in Ashley's bedroom she can see the sun setting over the city. Ashley's mouth moves to her neck, trailing light kisses; Spencer thinks of the sunset, and how Ashley's hair smells like soap and lilacs, and of her camera, lying discarded on the floor beside the bed.

And then finally Ashley takes one of Spencer's nipples in her mouth, sucking slowly, and Spencer can't think at all.


End file.
